When It Had Fallen Into Place
by thewinchesterlifestyle
Summary: Castiel was never meant to survive the siege against Hell. He was never meant to be the one to find the Righteous Man and lay claim to the brightest soul he'd ever seen. Then again when it came to Dean Winchester nothing really went according to plan and the ex-angel found he had no complaints.


**Disclaimer**:_ If you recognized it then I probably don't own it._

**Pairing**: _Castiel/Dean_

* * *

During his time on Earth and with the Winchesters he had learned a surprising amount about choice. Had learned that sometimes humans had their little sayings right. Knew if Dean were aware of his thoughts the man would mutter about 'chick-flick moments'. Castiel was still trying to figure out what exactly made something one of these moments. But he was more than sure this would be one of them. Absently Castiel moved his hand through Dean's hair as the hunter turned closer to him in sleep subconsciously cuddling against his angel and causing a smile to pull against Castiel's lips. The angel now turned human continued to move his fingers through the short hair as his mind wandered.

Despite existing for millennia Castiel could easily pinpoint the exactly moment his existence finally meant something. Had fallen into place. His sister was right though not exactly how she had meant it. He had been lost the second he laid a hand on Dean Winchester in Hell. But it would never be something he would regret. He would choose Dean every single time in every single way. There would never be a question about it.

Castiel, Angel of Thursday, was never supposed to make it so deep into Hell. He was meant to help lead his garrison in laying siege to Hell. To helping his superiors find the Righteous Man and raise him from Perdition.

He was not meant to survive.

His purpose had been to fight, to clear the way and lead his garrison into the horrors. But despite all odds Castiel had been the one to find the Righteous Man. He had formed an unbreakable bond with the brightest soul he had ever seen and would ever see. What would become the most important soul in his existence.

The second deepest, darkest place in Hell is where he found the Righteous Man. Unlike the other souls in Hell his soul retained the clear image of his long lost body. He was so clear. So present. Unlike the faded edges of the other doomed souls who were blurred and twisted with pain and violence and hopelessness. Blood covered Dean's features, painted up his arms and splashed across his torso. However all of those observations failed to tarnish the image before Castiel as he looked at the brightest soul in creation.

It had spoken volumes of the kind of man the soul before him belonged to. There were noticeable places where great anguish had taken residence telling an intricate story of how the Righteous Man had ended up in Hell. The last place he belonged. Demons in the area had fled in Castiel's presence. Terror had filled the air as Dean Winchester placed his blade down and turned to regard the bright light of an angel in Hell.

Castiel knew that he shouldn't have made it this far into Hell, had not expected to survive let alone actually find the soul before him. The brilliant green eyes of the man before him had darted around noting the absence of others. Then Castiel had moved forward, reaching out his right hand and raising the beautiful soul back to Earth. His grip had stayed strong and he had to push down a start of surprise at the soul grasping back just as tight.

His grip had tightened further and grace had flared burning a brand into Dean's very soul. It was unintentional, but Castiel had been focused on flight. He had broken through Hell into clean air and went to the place Dean's body was buried. Carefully he had cradled the soul in his grace as he went about restoring Dean Winchester's body. He had repaired organs and slashes from the hell hounds. Healed the skin which had not survived the attack and months of burial. Carefully Castiel had replaced each freckle in its correct place. All ninety eight were accounted for as he moved onto fixing the vivid green eyes. Castiel had then removed the evidence of Dean's hard life from the hunter's body even though it had not been necessary and not something his superiors would have requested.

With complete concentration he had looked into the soul he held and made sure that Dean Winchester's body had been completely restored. The muscles healed, body fit to go back into the world and house the Righteous Man's soul.

Then the Angel of the Lord had moved slowly, placing the healing soul into its Earthly vessel before noticing the mark on the left shoulder. A frown had furrowed his brow as Castiel reached out to touch the mark. It was soul deep and had come through to Dean's body. It wouldn't heal. The Righteous Man had taken with him some of Castiel's grace forming a link.

A bond.

Then the angel had taken to studying the human before him. He had not been able to interact up close with any of his Father's other creations before. Had been to Earth and witnessed various events, but never up close like this moment.

The blue eyes of his vessel had been able to see past the body before him to the very soul housed there. Castiel in that moment could read everything the man before him had experienced. Everything he had felt. And everything he had thought. All of Dean's triumphs, failures, guilt and pride to the protective feelings and the deep care he held for a select few. Castiel had seen the young Dean cradling his little brother's body outside of a burning house he knew was their childhood home. Watched as Dean took on the role of caregiver even before the fire and continued until the day a hell hound dragged him down to Hell. Had watched the eldest Winchester sacrifice and bleed and fight and live. To give freely to others because saving people was important.

Castiel had briefly stood above ground where Dean would be waking up, the area surrounding had been destroyed from him raising the Righteous Man and placing him back into his body. A voice from one of his brother's had called him away and prevented him from helping pull Dean from the ground.

Slowly his mind snapped back to the present, to the stirring man beside him and he moved over to cover Dean's lips with his own. The sleeping hunter began to wake, responding fully once he had completely woken and moving his hands up to drag Castiel down against his body. Their legs tangled further as their bodies pressed closer together. It had been over a year since Castiel had become human and he had found that these moments were his favorite. When Dean was completely relaxed and at peace. Safe and sound and whole and happy. They would always be his favorite because his hunter should experience those feelings.

He loved the moments he could spend recounting each freckle he had painstakingly replaced years ago. Castiel enjoyed the embarrassed flush that would crawl up Dean's cheeks when he would start counting to himself while they were waiting in a café or waiting in line or simply resting.

A whole year of hunting together, exploring each other's bodies and learning those tiny details couples inevitably learned about each other. Castiel had learned how Dean liked to be touched, how the other man reacted to his actions and how to fit together in the new relationship. The sounds he made when Castiel's lips were pressed against his neck or the mark on his shoulder. He was a fast learner, especially when it came to Dean and like learning to be a human he had taken to it rapidly. Without pause and complete attention.

And in turn had learned his own preferences and how having a soul made those emotions so very different. They seemed more present. More pressing and he often wondered if it was because the human soul recognized it was only on Earth for a short period of time.

Castiel was leaning over Dean, pushing the other man further into the mattress and enjoying the feeling of their bodies fitting together. It was obvious that Dean was in agreement. The hunter's hands roamed his body, pulling him closer and holding on. Castiel's own hand moved to his mark branded into Dean's skin; he could still feel the pull of his grace steadily pulsing there and enjoyed the reminder that he had claimed Dean years ago.

A soft glow radiated from Dean's chest where the rest of Castiel's grace hung on a leather cord. It had never been safer in Castiel's mind and he could feel it dancing against Dean's skin, flaring happily so close to his soul. Knew how precious it was to Dean. It was often that he would find Dean just holding onto it without thought and the feelings those moments caused were indescribable.

Dean leaned up and captured his lips once more. This would always be one of his favorite things about being human. The stillness in the mornings filled with touches and warmth and a sense of complete rightness.

Castiel had been lost when he had laid a hand on Dean in Hell and it wasn't something he would ever regret.

* * *

_Wanted to do a little one-shot looking across time or at least having Castiel take a look._


End file.
